


Falling Into Place

by AcrobatElle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcrobatElle/pseuds/AcrobatElle
Summary: A collection of short bits written pre- and post-episode (or sometimes inspired by sneak peeks) originally posted on Tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written prior to the airing of 5x22.

The looks he gets are unnerving. **  
**

The lights, the noise, and the shaking ground sent him into autopilot, barreling into Granny’s without a thought. He’s grown used to being stared at over the years, usually welcomed the attention, the gazes trained on him either in admiration or well-earned fear, but this –

He expected shock. Perhaps even a bit of fear; he’s a dead man as far as everyone is concerned, but something about the prince’s words – _we thought we left you_ –

– it stings. It shouldn’t, he knows, it was his choice to stay, to send Emma up that elevator, but.

But.

He doesn’t miss the flash of rage in the Queen’s eyes once the initial surprise wears off. He knows, doesn’t blame her one bit, wants to tell her that he of all people understands how she feels, wants to –

(knows that he of all people understands that words at a time like this feel hollow and useless, knows that grief and rage can be all-consuming and you simply _can’t_ be talked out of it, knows that she’s raw and broken and he’s the last man she wants to see)

(knows that he shouldn’t feel the burn of guilt creeping up his face or the racing of his heart, _Gods_ he never thought he’d feel that again)

(clings to the tiny smile on his love’s face, the only person who isn’t looking at him like _he shouldn’t be here_ )

– he swallows down his words and watches as the Queen leaves with a withering look, Emma taking a beat before following her, squeezing his arm and looking helplessly at him as she goes.

And he stands there, feeling small and stupid and everyone is still staring, open-mouthed and dumbfounded.

“Right,” he finally says, speaking to the floor. “I should go.”

He’s barely started to turn to the door when a body collides with him with even more force than Emma in the cemetery, nearly taking him off his feet as he stumbles backwards and grips at the figure whose arms are wrapped firmly around his midsection.

His grips even tighter when he realizes it’s Henry.

He takes another breath and holds on, another piece of home falling into place.

*


	2. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written prior to the airing of 5x12.

Killian thought he had known pain, before. **  
**

He’d been whipped enough times as a boy on that God-forsaken ship where his father left him, for faults both real and imagined. Poisoned in Neverland. Countless cuts and bruises, part and parcel of being a pirate captain. Beaten by the bloody Crocodile and run over by a car, his ribs shattered.

Having his hand taken had been the worst. Not so much the amputation as the cauterization it took to keep him from bleeding out and the weeks of fever and infection that followed. He’d longed for death then, sweating and shivering in his cabin with only the crudest of care from his crew.

He would not have wished for it if he knew what awaited him on the other side.

It is not just his ribs this time, no – if every bone in his body were not cracked it certainly feels that way, each breath and involuntary twitch causing waves of pain that turn his vision white at the edges. In the real world, he would have passed out by now.

But there is no sleep for him here, no blissful drift in unconsciousness to grant him a reprieve. He is awake for every agonizing moment, bruises and broken bones and burns setting fire to his nerves and assuring him that Hell does indeed exist.

He deserves this, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier.

He loses any sense of time, borne away on endless waves of pain, and loses himself as well. Forgets why he is there, what he has done to deserve this, nothing left but a grim acceptance of a fate he knows he has earned, even if he can’t remember why.

He thinks he is hallucinating when he feels a cool, gentle hand on his forehead. He can’t open his eyes – one being swollen shut and useless, anyway – but for the first time since he can remember he is able to draw in a breath without pain.

And when a soft pair of lips whispers in his ear, every soothing word lost to him except _love_ , a faint scent of cinnamon accompanying them, he thinks, _this_.

_This is what Heaven must feel like._


	3. Quotes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure speculation written just before "Birth" aired.

He’s stunned when he sees her, her light a brilliant contrast to destruction and smoke and the faint scent of burning embers he’s been surrounded by for… god, how long has it been?

“Emma?” His voice sounds far away, no longer a part of him, just a detached echo.

“Yeah. It’s me.” He knows that look, the one where she’s overwhelmed and trying not to cry. There are others behind her, her parents, Regina, Henry, even the bloody Crocodile, but he only has eyes for her.

“ _Emma_.” He wastes no time, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around her, feeling her stiffen in shock at his reaction before she melts into him. “How did you – “

“I didn’t think you’d be happy to see me.” Her words are muffled against his chest and it makes his heart constrict, knowing how he left her, his time away making him acutely aware of how painful _I loved you_ must have been for her.

She didn’t do anything for him that he wouldn’t have himself, had he been in her position. It’s eaten away at his soul, that knowledge, and the thought that he’d never get a chance to tell her.

“Of course I am, love,” he says, and he’s swallowed down by her kiss before he can say anything else. He allows himself a moment to drown, to finally feel warm again, and it takes more will than he knew he possessed to pull away from her. “How?”

She smiles, her palm rubbing against his chest. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for awhile.”

He chuckles, his forehead falling to hers. “I know when you’re quoting something.”


	4. Not Bad, Just Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to this anon message: "CS headcanon: what if Killian originally wore eyeliner as a form of eye black, protecting him from the glare out on the ocean. He continued to wear it out of habit but one morning he realizes he doesn't have a need for it. So he comes downstairs without eyeliner and Emma..."

Killian actually grows a little uncomfortable under Emma’s scrutiny, a thoughtful look on her face as she studies him. He doesn’t realize what she’s on about at first, and when it finally occurs to him he can’t help but grin.  
  
“Do I truly look that bad without it?”  
  
Emma shakes her head from where she stands by the coffee maker, tilting her head and staring some more. “No, no. It’s not bad, just different.” He looks younger, softer somehow without it, but such a small change makes such a difference on his face that she’s having trouble wrapping her head around it.  
  
His eyebrow shoots up. “You _like_  the kohl.”  
  
She huffs and he doesn’t buy her eyeroll, not one bit.  
  
He sidles up to her, brushing his nose against hers as his hand finds the small of her back and hers come to rest on his chest. “Just admit it, Swan.”  
  
She only speaks when she leans in to kiss him and he backs away, his smirk growing at her impatience. “Fine. I like the kohl.”  
  
“I thought so.” He leans in but denies her a kiss once more, his mouth grazing over her jawline and sliding up to just below her ear, his breath warming her skin. “How _much_ do you like it?” he asks in a delicious low rumble that vibrates through her, his hand sliding lower.  
  
She shows him _exactly_  how much when she retrieves her eyeliner pencil and forces him to sit, straddling his lap as she tilts his head up and carefully lines his eyes, their breaths mingling as she leans in close.  
  
(It’s a waste, considering how smudged it gets in the immediate aftermath.)


	5. Netflix and...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written after the sneak peek for 6x01 came out. You know the one.

“So,” she says, in between the long, languid kisses of a man with all the time in the world and no desire to rush. “Have you ever heard the phrase - “ her breath hitches with the slow roll of his hips against hers and her thighs part even farther, letting him settle as closely against her as possible between two layers of denim.

They’re not desperate yet, a slow heat simmering under her skin as he settles into her. She welcomes the weight, the steady, patient press between her legs while his lips drift up her throat and settle below her ear, just a whisper against her skin.

“Have you heard the phrase ‘Netflix and chill’?” she gets out before his mouth is on hers once more, lips nipping and tongue stroking deep.

“Can’t say I have, love,” he rumbles against her mouth, and it’s his turn to breathe deep and sigh with a pleased little hum as she wraps one leg around his waist and lifts her hips into him. “Care to show me?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She can feel his gentle smile against her lips, their foreheads just touching as the heat between them grows, the sparks gradually overtaken by a low, crawling fire.

She smiles back. “But I’m thinking maybe we can skip the Netflix part.”


	6. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written post-"Strange Case."

It’s strange to have Belle in his home (almost as strange as him having a home in the first place - one without sails and rigging, at least), but when he’d told her she could come by at any time, he’d meant it. Even so, he was still taken aback when she’d knocked at his door, not long after Emma had left for work.

She tries her best to stem any awkwardness as he invites her in, strolling inside and taking a seat at the kitchen table as though she’d done it countless times before, but he finds himself at a loss as he takes the seat across from her. She seems to feel it too - the look on her face is hesitant, guarded, like she wants to talk but doesn’t know if she can.

In any other situation he’d offer to break out the rum. Instead, he tries the next best thing.

“Would you like some tea?” He can see her hesitate, knows the protest that’s about to come, and continues on before she can voice it. “I know you can’t have caffeine, but I’ve bought a few kinds without it.”

The surprised smile on her face eases his heart the tiniest bit, reassurance that he’s gotten at least one thing right. “Someone’s been learning.”

He can only answer with an embarrassed grin as he reaches for the kettle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to Adam's 6x12 script tease.

It seems they’ve done this for ages, planning and then splitting up in the middle of Main Street, going their separate ways on one mission or another. When he allows himself to truly think about it he’s stunned at how quickly it’s happened - there was no slow slide into this life in Storybrooke, no gradual build into their current mode of operation. He was thrown into it but none if it felt sudden; he slipped so easily into the role he’d scarcely realized how abruptly he’d arrived there.

He doesn’t regret a bit of it. Especially not with Emma at his side, though he is forced to part with her on this particular occasion. It’s just another piece of the puzzle, just another way they work together, and the knowledge that they’ll both retire to the same home, the same bed at the end of the evening makes it that much easier. 

Truth be told, he  _ likes _ it. He likes being useful, enjoys righting wrongs in a way that scratches the itch he felt as a young lieutenant, finally stepping into the shoes of the man he so desperately wishes to be. He feels he’s slowly getting there, an admission he hasn’t yet made to Emma - he plans on doing so soon, but it’s a strange thing, to have something driving him that isn’t directly related to his love for her, to want to be better for himself rather than someone else. He hadn’t realized it until he apologized to Belle, played back his words to her in his head over and over.

Perhaps he should speak to the Cricket after all.

Despite all that it’s still Emma, always Emma at the end of the day who truly centers him, and he steps away from her knowing they’ll be wrapped around each other soon enough, sweet and warm between their sheets.

“Hook,” she says, just as he’s stepping away.

When he turns back to face her he’s fighting a smile; she always refers to him by his more colorful moniker in front of others. He much prefers how she addresses him in private, loves the sound of “Killian” on her lips.

“You forgot something.”

He can feel his eyebrow going up despite his best efforts. “What’s that?”

She doesn’t answer, not with words, but her sly smile reveals her intentions as she steps in close, her hands reaching for his lapels as she leans in close and presses her lips to his.

He sighs into her mouth, tilting his head but not daring to push things farther, not with her father a few feet away. But it’s yet another thing he’s so quickly grown used to, a sweet well-wishing from his beloved before undertaking a mission and he’s not about to let the chance pass him by. It’s so easy to get lost in, the warmth of her lips and the press of her palms against his chest.

She pulls away first but doesn’t go far, her lips against his while she smiles, her “There we go” sounding incredibly satisfied.

He can’t find it in him to argue, his grin mirroring hers. “How could I forget?”

 


End file.
